


Look Back and Find Me in the Shadow

by Crimson Rosé (Poison_Rose)



Series: Close Your Eyes and Drown [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blindfolds, Blood As Lube, Butt Plugs, Cock Warming, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Consensual Sex, Consensual Violence, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Developing Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Illegal Activities, Kageyama is Kato, Kageyama is a stalker, Light Bondage, M/M, Mental Instability, Moral Ambiguity, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, No Lube, Obsessive Behavior, Piercings, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Rough Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Stalking, Strangers to Lovers, Tsukishima is strangely okay with everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26809462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poison_Rose/pseuds/Crimson%20Ros%C3%A9
Summary: Tsukishima thought he was the normal guy, one person out of the population of normalcy. But when he noticed the eyes that trailed after him everywhere he went, the gifts that were left in his car, and the message in his apartment, Tsukishima realized that maybe he wasn't as normal as he had thought. After all, a normal person wouldn't allow these strange activities to continue without trying to at least intervene.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Series: Close Your Eyes and Drown [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955308
Comments: 33
Kudos: 203





	1. The Predatory Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I think this goes without saying, but I feel like I should still say it out loud. So **disclaimer** : If you suspect that you are being a target of stalking, GO TO THE POLICE! Tell you parents, tell your teachers, tell your friends, tell everyone, so they can help look out for you. Do not stay silent and passive like Tsukishima. Do not receive or eat anything from strangers. Get yourself out of the situation IMMEDIATELY!
> 
> With that being said, enjoy :)

Tsukishima had been feeling like someone was watching him. Not all the time, but often enough to have chills creeping up his spine at least twice a day. Today was one of those days. Tsukishima had a class in the afternoon, and he was walking from his previous class to a lecture room that was located in another building. He half-walked, half-ran across a cafeteria under one of the buildings on his way. It was deserted. Afternoon classes weren’t that popular among students, and the ones who enrolled in this timeframe were already in class. Tsukishima should be too. He was about to be late.

Taking a turn at the corner which would lead him to the Asian Studies Department building, Tsukishima took longer strides. His right foot stepped onto the last stairs leading up to the entrance, when he felt a pair of eyes drilling into the back of his head, something he had noticed disturbingly often over these past few weeks.

A quick black figure zoomed past his peripheral vision. He quickly turned, almost losing his balance when his legs tangled with each other, but there was nothing out of place. The bicycle parking spots looked the same as usual and the several plant pots that made a straight line into the department’s small garden was as he had remembered two days ago. There was no one in sight.

It could be his mistake, but Tsukishima recognized this feeling of being watched as the same one he got yesterday, when he was studying at the library. He would have walked around a bit more to see if there was anything out of place if he wasn’t about to be late to a class that had attendance graded. Leaving the problem to be pondered on at later times, he shrugged and walked into the building.

The eyes followed him.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

Whoever those observing eyes belonged to, Tsukishima thought that they were getting braver by days. Yesterday, he felt the eyes follow him all day, until he left the campus with his car after his last class was finished. Today, Tsukishima came into his Japanese Literature classroom and found a post-it stuck on the table that he usually sat on.

He was early this morning, so the class was mostly empty with the exception of a group of serious students at the front of the classes, who were rigorously comparing their notes from yesterday. Tsukishima didn’t think it was them out of gut feelings. Looking around and finding no one else that he could be suspicious of, Tsukishima set his bag on his chair to be used as a back cushion and sat down. He read the pale yellow post-it slowly.

_Manage your time well. You’re almost late yesterday._

_Please have a nice day, Kei._

The statement would be completely normal if not for his name that was written at the end. It was his first name, too.

_Already with the familiarity_ , Tsukishima mused.

The message was meant for him. They knew his name. They knew where he sat. And more importantly, they knew what he was doing yesterday. Suddenly, the brief feeling of being watched in front of the building came back to him.

It was the same person.

Tsukishima reread the post-it again, looking for any clue that could tell him why this person decided to leave him a message, but found none as expected. Of course there was nothing. It was just three sentences.

Not long after, his classmates poured into the room and filed into their seat, followed by an old professor who started her PowerPoint and got right into the lecture without any greeting or pleasantry. Tsukishima opened his plastic folder and slipped the note in.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

The class was boring. Luckily, it was his only class today, so he was rescued out of his misery before noon. Tsukishima packed his textbook and laptop and walked to a café that he had discovered the day before the semester started. It was a nice, small cafe that hid in a narrow alley at the back of the college. Not many people knew about this place, so no matter what time of the day Tsukishima visited, it was never crowded. The smell of roasted coffee beans and bakery greeted him when he pushed the door and stepped inside. A small bell that was attached to the upper frame jingled. They always played soft jazz music and the lights were set to be good for reading, so Tsukishima would sometimes come here to finish his paperwork while enjoying a cup of coffee. But not today. He had some cleanings to do at home, so he planned to order a take-out instead.

Tsukishima walked up to the cashier and ordered his usual strawberry yogurt smoothies. He didn’t feel like having coffee today. Tsukishima gave his last name when the barista asked, and she halted her hand that was writing on the plastic cup.

“Tsukishima Kei?” She asked, tone polite.

Tsukishima furrowed his eyebrows a bit at the use of his full name but nodded anyway. The barista smiled at him and said, “It’s being made right now. Someone ordered strawberry yogurt smoothies for you and already paid. Please wait a few moments.”

Tsukishima was still in a daze when his name was called. He took the cup and looked at the name written neatly at the side, but it was really his name. Who else would have a kanji for Hotaru but pronounce it as Kei? Getting a free drink was good, because he was a college student from a middle-class family, but he needed to know if this treat was from the person he thought they were.

He waited until the person who was ordering walked away to the table before going back to the barista. “May I ask who this drink is from?” But the answer was that it was ordered by phone, and they couldn't reveal the phone number of the customer without their consent.

Tsukishima had half a mind to tell the barista that the person could be someone dangerous, because they had been following him around, but decided against it. The barista might contact the police, and Tsukishima really didn’t need any more annoying work to add to his already busy life. He didn’t expect an answer to begin with, just trying his luck. It would be great if he could get a name, but he wasn’t disappointed if he couldn’t. So he nodded without arguing and left.

During his walk home, Tsukishima thought about the drink, the post-it note, and the eyes, as he sipped on his drink. He was pretty sure that he was being followed, and the person may not have the best intention, what with all the privacy-violation-is-a-crime thing, but the drink was freshly made. He was standing there, watching as the barista poured strawberry and milk into the mixer, so he knew that there was nothing wrong with it. Tsukishima wasn’t going to let free drinks go to waste.

Still, for them to know that he routinely went to that cafe every Thursday, they must have been following him for quite some time, if they followed him at all, that is. The thing that urged Tsukishima’s interest, though, was the fact that they had ordered strawberry yogurt smoothies instead of mocha that he usually got. These two drinks were his go-to, with mocha being a bit of a favorite child with how often he stayed up late to study, but which one he chose depended entirely on his mood. Tsukishima didn’t know what to think of a stranger knowing his preference for the day.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

It was going to rain, Tsukishima observed when he looked up from his phone and saw looming grey clouds on the other side of the city. He skipped the weather forecast today, so he didn’t bring an umbrella. Cursing under his breath at his carelessness, Tsukishima looked at the time at the corner of his phone screen and saw that it was almost time for class. Five minutes until the lecture started.

Reaching into his bag to find the report that was due today before the class started, Tsukishima’s hand found nothing. He blinked, before pulling the bag onto his lap and started searching once more. He sorted through all the worksheets and his own notes in quick swipes of a thumb and repeated the process one more time, hoping that the report that he had spent so many nights finishing up would be hidden in there somewhere. But his search came up with nothing.

Tsukishima immediately thought back to his morning, replaying events like a blurry record. He had double checked his car to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything, so it wasn’t in his car, which means that it was all the way back in his apartment. Scrunching up his eyebrows, he thought back further. He’d taken the report from his bedroom, then he’d gone into the kitchen to brew himself a coffee. Tsukishima frowned. What did he do with the report? Thinking harder, Tsukishima realized that he didn’t put it in the bag. He must have left it somewhere in the kitchen.

_Freaking hell_ , he mentally spat and zoomed out of his seat with his phone, his wallet, and his car key in hand. His bag would have to stay there to save the seat. It was in a good spot, at the back of the class, but also at the center of the row, giving a clear view of the powerpoint. He wouldn’t let anyone have it.

Tsukishima looked at his watch. Three minutes. His apartment wasn’t that far from the university, but three minutes wasn’t enough. Judging from the traffic in the morning, it should take him at least about seven minutes to reach his apartment’s parking lot, and another 10 minutes to get back to class. He would miss his attendance check, but the report was worth a lot of points. If he didn’t turn it in in time, he would have to say goodbye to straight A.

Unlocking the car and jumping into the driver seat, Tsukishima started the engine and was about to stomp on the accelerator for a quick start when something caught his eyes. There was a familiar stack of paper on the passenger seat. Its cover page was light blue, the same color as the one that Tsukishima had chosen for his report. Looking more closely, he could see the three kanjis that were his name on the cover.

It wasn’t here before. Tsukishima was sure of it because he had checked. So how… Oh. _Oh_.

It was the person. The same one who may or may not have put the post-it note on his table and bought his drink. Tsukishima should be suspicious. They put the report on his seat, meaning that they must have a key to his car. But he didn’t have time to think. He would rather accept this person’s help than waste all his previous effort keeping all A for the past two years. Tsukishima quickly grabbed his work and turned his engine off. He needed to get back to class.

Running as fast as his long legs could carry him, Tsukishima rushed into the lecture room and sighed in relief when he didn’t see the professor. He swiftly sat at his table and looked at his watch again. One minute until class started. He was saved.

Now that his grade was secured, Tsukishima calmed down enough to notice the pale blue post-it that was stuck to the inside of the report's plastic cover. Carefully easing it off, he read the characters.

_You forgot this._

It was short and simple, sounding harmless enough when he reread it in his own voice. Then tsukishima froze in his seat as realization hit him. The person didn’t only have access to his car, but also his apartment. For how long?

The realization didn’t come to him so much as a shock or wariness, more like an odd wonder. Instead of a danger alarm blaring in his head, Tsukishima thought of the why of this situation because really, out of the people out there, the person chose the boring, struggling college student named Tsukishima Kei?

Adding up everything that had happened until now, Tsukishima safely concluded that he had a stalker. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel threatened. Just surprised. Akiteru had always said that he was too calm no matter the situation. He said that Tsukishima would be calm even when a robber ran at him with a knife. Tsukishima had scoffed at his brother’s joke, but now, he thought maybe Akiteru was right. No one knew him better than his brother.

He kept the post-it in his clear plastic folder, next to the one he got yesterday.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

Tsukishima drove home with a weird feeling in his chest. He had a stalker, his very own admirer who followed him around like a shadow, and the fact that he didn’t mind it that much scared him more than the disturbing news about a girl being killed by her stalker that came on television every once in a while.

He should panic. He should tell someone. He should report whoever they were to the police…

He did none of those things.

Inserting the key to unlock his apartment door, Tsukishima turned the knob and took off his shoes at the genkan. He hung the keychain on the hook above the shoes cabinet and turned on the light.

When he went into the kitchen, he knew that something was wrong. His apartment had changed. It wasn’t glaringly obvious, but to someone who had eyes as sharp as Tsukishima and an obsession over the arrangement of all his household stuff, it was noticeable enough.

Putting down his bag onto the kitchen table, he kept quiet and listened. His apartment was dead silent, except for the sound of air conditioning working in the background. He waited for a couple minutes more, trying to catch every little noise he heard, but he got nothing. No one was here.

Tsukishima then looked around his kitchen. They looked alright. The utensils were in their correct places and the appliances were in their usual corner. Still, he noticed the slight move in all of the kitchen equipment on the counter. They were either moved a bit to the left or to the right of their original placement. Every single one of them.

The counter was wiped, he realized, that was why everything was off by a little bit. And the dishes that he had dumped in the sink in the rush to get to class was gone. He found them on the dish rack, sparkling clean and dry.

Had his stalker turned into a housemaid? Tsukishima mused darkly.

It was a clear sign that his house had been broken in. It was dangerous. He went back to examine the door knob and saw no telling of lock picking. His apartment was on the fifth floor, no trees reached that high and certainly no human could climb up from the ground or down from the rooftop. Except they were trained in the military or were actually a superhuman, which he doubted. In conclusion, they must have obtained the key to his apartment somehow.

Having access to his house was different from having his car key. It was alarming. They could come in when he was asleep and slit his throat or even kidnap him. Tsukishima considered changing a new lock and installing more security locks, but really, it was too much work and money. And also, he was curious as to what this stranger was up to. He walked back inside without doing anything.

He opened the fridge to put away a box of takeout, when he saw a box of dessert from an unfamiliar shop. Putting the box that he had bought on the top shelf, Tsukishima took the other box out and carefully read the shop name. It was French. He took a peek inside. It was a piece of strawberry shortcake. And there was no receipt.

Tsukishima took the cake box out of its bag and turned it around, his eyes darting from one corner to another. The plastic container was fully intact, all corners sealed. He stared at it for a while, not sure what to do, before his desire gave in. Taking a saucer and a teaspoon out from the cupboard, he opened the dessert box.

It wasn’t tampered with, Tsukishima reasoned while moving the cake from its original container to the saucer. Throwing the useless plastic into the trash, he settled down and scooped a piece into his mouth. The layer of sponge cake melted on his tongue as sweet and sour flavor filled his mouth. The whipped cream was delicate and soft, not too sweet but also not too milky. Best of all was the strawberries. Tsukishima could tell they were fresh, color red and texture juicy. Needless to say, Tsukishima was on cloud nine.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. An Unconventional Response

Tsukishima was in a meeting for a group presentation, and he was positively done with it all. It was sunny outside. The temperature was hot enough for him to see mirage on the road surface, and the air conditioning system in this room wasn’t working well. Tsukishima had shredded his cardigan, but he was still sweating. For someone who liked sunlight and warmth such as him to feel like dying, the air conditioner must have done its absolute worst.

As if to make the matter worse, Tsukishima’s stomach was growling, acid eating away on the inside. Aside from his morning coffee, he hadn’t had a single meal or even a piece of snack today. He had three consecutive classes that started at eight and ended at two in the afternoon, which wasn’t anything unusual. He could function until three if need be, but he always went for a quick snack afterward to keep himself going.

Tsukishima didn’t have a chance to do that today. He planned to stop at the department’s vending machine, but it had broken down some time in the morning and no one had come to fix it yet. There were several convenient stores nearby, but the time for a team meeting was quickly approaching. They had been back to back with his last class, and Tsukishima didn’t have even a minute to spare, so he went to the study room in the library with an empty stomach.

Looking at his watch, Tsukishima noted that it was already six. The dull ache in his stomach had turned into pain that made him hide a grimace every few minutes. Fortunately, they finished the PowerPoint’s final edit ten minutes after that. Tsukishima faked his smile when his group mates bid him goodbye and went their separate ways. He practically ran to his car and yanked the door open, before throwing himself inside without caring about hitting his arms on anything. He _needed_ food. Right _now_.

His brain was running full speed, trying to find the closest place that can make him the fastest meal. The campus cafeteria was out of the question. Students crowded the place in the evening like a starving hyena looking for a prey. He thought of the small convenient store at the corner of a small street that was usually empty at this time and inserted the car key on autopilot. He had already had his grips on the steering wheel when a delicious smell hit him. It was from somewhere close by, and when Tsukishima looked around, he found a takeout bento box on the passenger seat.

It was the stalker, Tsukishima thought to himself and reached out to the tempting meal. There was another note attached to the lid, but he ignored it in favor of food in his stomach. As soon as the lid was opened, warm steam floated up and fogged Tsukishima’s glasses. Quickly breaking the given chopsticks, he dug in.

The meal was a simple grilled saba fish topped on rice with salad and a side miso soup. Tsukishima had never eaten anything so fast in his life. Five minutes passed, and the bento box was empty. Not a single slice of vegetable was left.

Tsukishima closed the lid and put the box and the chopsticks back into the plastic bag. He sighed, stomach full and no longer in pain. He dabbed the given napkin on his lips before throwing that into the bag too.

Now that he wasn’t starving, the fact that he had eaten a meal from a stalker without even checking hit him like a truck. He hadn’t cared at all because he was hungry, and he needed something to shut his stomach up, but now that he was pleasantly full, he still didn’t think much of it. The food could be poisoned, or worse, drugged. Tsukishima waited for the expected reaction, panic, anxiety, fear, _anything_ , to creep up to him and strike its fang, but he felt nothing. It was as if he trusted the faceless stranger, but he knew that that wasn’t the case.

Then what was the case? Honestly, Tsukishima didn’t know.

He thought back to the same baby blue post-it note and tugged it away from the lid. The stalker’s handwritings were always quite a mess. It wasn’t neat or well-spaced. There were also a lot of mistakes. Sometimes Tsukishima would spot misspellings and wrong kanjis. It reminded him of a dumb teenager who didn’t do that well academically. After criticizing the grammatical mistakes until satisfied, he began paying attention to the message itself.

_Don’t skip meals too often. You’re an athlete._

_It’s not good for health._

He should be creeped out. He really should, but he didn’t.

Tsukishima kept that post-it in the same folder as the other two and drove back home, humming a light tune song under his breath now that hunger had left him.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

Two weeks after their first direct contact in the form of a note on Tsukishima’s table, the stalking and the gifts, along with the breaking in, had become some kind of a routine. Tsukishima would find things that he had forgotten at home miraculously appeared in his car and would come home to find that the apartment had been cleaned. At first it was the dishes that he had left in the sink, more out of urgent schedule than expecting the stalker to wash them. After two days, his living room was cleaned. Not a single dust could be found. When he checked the vacuum, it was put back in place in the small storage room, its dust pan empty. And a week after the first post-it note, Tsukishima came home to find that his basket of dirty clothes were empty. When he looked in the closet in his bedroom, he found them properly folded and tucked away. It was laundry and dried, Tsukishima thought as he put a piece of t-shirt to his nose.

Tsukishima knew that the stranger had been in his apartment everyday because whenever he came back home from the college, he always found that at least one thing had changed. He acknowledged their effort to keep things in their rightful place to make the room look normal, but really, if they were going to clean everything, he would of course notice. Why even bother with placement?

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

Tsukishima’s life went on with daily assistance from his nameless stalker. His apartment had turned from acceptably neat and clean to probably germ- and dust-free. His laundry was done every four days, and there was a meal waiting for him either in his car or at home on the day when he missed a meal. There were desserts in his fridge at least once every three days. If Tsukishima didn’t care much about his car and his home being broken in before, now he even encouraged it because let’s be real, he was struggling. His time management was messed up. Balancing volleyball practices and classes was difficult enough, who had time for self-care and proper chores?

As soon as he had turned to that line of thought, Tsukishima halted and took a step back. Was that why he had accepted these illegal activities so readily? Because the stalker was beneficial to him and made his life easier? Maybe the person was doing all this for him to let his guard down before committing crimes. They were a stalker. Of course they were up to something questionable.

Then Tsukishima thought about himself. Would he let this stranger come into his house and follow him even without all the assistance that he had received? He imagined himself knowing of the existence of a stalker, who got into his car, his home, and left him messages. Someone who could be murderous, for some reason, was taking an interest in him. They hadn’t done any harm, not yet, but they could. They had walked in and out of his house, doing nothing, just coming in and sitting at the couch, walking around, sleeping in his bed during the day, and maybe smelling his clothes, if he wanted to go to the creepy side. Would Tsukishima do anything differently?

It was such a weird question to ask himself. Normal people would just run and tell the police. Tsukishima had thought that he was the normal guy too, once upon a time. But faced with this unimaginable circumstance, he started to look at himself differently, because he wasn’t terrified or creeped out, or threatened in any case. His reaction to being stalked was mostly apathy. He just didn’t care. If the stranger wanted to tail him around and clean his apartment? Fine. If they wanted to buy him things and maybe get a good sniff out of his underwear in return? Sure. If they want to somehow turn him into their sexual fantasy and get off thinking about him? Why not. If they planned on luring him in and then killing him afterward? Well, he would have to do something about that, but that possibility hadn’t presented itself yet, so Tsukishima didn’t understand why he should be worried.

He didn’t care what the stalker did, Tsukishima decided.

Walking out to the balcony, Tsukishima noticed that the light bulb had been replaced. He found a short strand of black hair on the floor in front of a sliding floor. It wasn’t his hair because his was as blonde as a foreigner could be.

This was evidence, a solid one at that.

He picked it up and put it in the trash.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

Thinking about the stalker had Tsukishima realized something in the patterns of their behaviors. They did all the housework and fixed his things when they broke down. They occasionally provided him food and sweets. Judging from the brand and the container, they were all expensive food. They were brought. Not a single edible thing that Tsukishima had received from his stalker was homemade.

Recalling his psychology class last semester, Tsukishima found it odd. Most stalkers wanted to form a connection with a person that they stalked. They wanted to see their work and dedication appreciated, so they valued intimacy over elegance. They usually included a piece of themselves in the thing that they gave their victim, be it effort, attention, affection, or a physical part of them.

If a stalker didn’t add anything from those categories into the gift, then that meant they were lacking in some aspect, and they had to make do with not adding it. Seeing that the meals, although suggested attention and care, lacked intimacy, Tsukishima suspected that his stalker couldn’t cook.

That night, Tsukishima made a bigger dinner than usual and rationed half the meal for himself. He poured the rest into containers and kept them in the fridge. Going around doing his usually nightly routine, he shut the light and went to bed.

When morning came, Tsukishima woke up a bit earlier than usual. He took a shower and stepped into the kitchen fifteen minutes later. He brewed his morning coffee, a much needed caffeine for him to function through each day without losing his head, and set to work. Taking the food from last night out of the fridge, he put them into proper dining plates and heated them up in a microwave. It wasn’t anything fancy, just curry and rice.

Tsukishima sat down at the table and slowly sipped his coffee, drowning himself in the warm scent of roast beans and a lukewarm feeling in his stomach. A couple minutes later, he finished his coffee and went to put them in the sink when the microwave dinged. He pulled the curry and rice out and placed them at the center of the dining table. He went around the kitchen, trying to find the food wrap that he hadn’t used in ages.

It took him a couple moments to finally find it in one of the drawers underneath the kitchen counter. He wrapped the two plates, one for rice and another one for curry, and set out a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. When finished, he stepped back to look at his work, before an idea came to him and he searched his bag for a dull yellow post-it that he had. Tsukishima thought that maybe he wasn’t completely sane, or else he wouldn't be trying to communicate with the stalker.

_I made breakfast for you._

He didn’t directly acknowledge the stalker, so they might think that Tsukishima left it for someone else who would be visiting. No matter, Tsukishima wanted his message to be obscure. If whoever had been doing his chores wanted to eat it, then go ahead. But if he came back and the food was still here, Tsukishima would just eat it himself or throw it away if it became bad during the day.


	3. The First Touch

Things had escalated after the meal that Tsukishima had come home to see the curry and rice plates gone and all dishes washed. The post-it that had been on the table was also nowhere to be seen. The stalker still came to do his chore daily, but Tsukishima felt eyes on him more often. It followed him everywhere, at college, on his grocery trip, during his afternoon walk, and even when he was in bed.

He went through it all unconcerned.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

Tsukishima had just finished washing up. He pulled on a white shirt and grey sweatpants. Today was a laundry day, so his closet was filled with a soft detergent smell. He was in the middle of choosing an outfit for tomorrow when he noticed that one of his underwear was gone. More specifically, the purple one.

He went to the laundry machine and the dryer to check, but it wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the laundry basket either.

His stalker took it, and it led him to think that they had a thing for him. Maybe some fascination or obsession.

Tsukishima set out tomorrow’s clothes and closed the closet. He went to bed like nothing happened.

A week after the underwear incident, more of Tsukishima clothing had disappeared. Sometimes it was another underwear and a boxer, and sometimes it was his sleep t-shirt. He started checking his closet daily to take account of what was gone each day. Luckily, his stalker didn’t take anything expensive. His formal wear and suit were still there, along with his expensive watch for social gatherings and dress shoes.

Tsukishima walked into the bedroom after a shower and stopped in his tracks when he saw the unfamiliar state his bed was in. The bedding sets that Tsukishima owned were white, light green, and dark purple. He stared at his bed. He didn’t notice it when he first came in to get to the adjoined bathroom, but it was navy blue, a color that was definitely not his.

Anything different or strange in his apartment had been taken as the stalker’s doing, so this one should be no different. Tsukishima left his wet towel (one of the existing three that hadn’t been stolen yet) on the rack in the bathroom and walked straight to the bed. He put a hand on it and pushed down. It dipped with ease, easier than he had remembered it. His stalker had changed the mattress.

Tsukishima picked the pillow up and squeezed. He had changed this too.

Putting the pillow down, Tsukishima sat on the bed, which felt softer than ever under him. He ran his hand on the navy bedsheet, feeling the smooth and delicate texture that was glaringly different from the bedsheets that he owned. As he relaxed his full body onto the bed, a pleasant, albeit unfamiliar, scent caught his nose. Picking the pillow up again, he brought it close to his face and sniffed. It came from the pillow cover, and also from the bedsheet.

Eager to know what the scent was, Tsukishima closed his eyes and brought his face closer to the fabric. It was sweet, refreshing, and a bit citric. He had smelled this before, in the beauty section of some department stores. He tried to think of what it was. It lacked the assaulting kind of sweetness that made his head ache, so it wasn't a heavy perfume. The scent was light and airy, like a thin layer of curtain in the way of sunlight. It was a body cologne.

Tsukishima knew what this scent was: green apple.

The scent was fresh, but with the lack of laundry detergent smell that usually accompanied freshly washed clothes. When he touched the blanket, the fabric texture was not like that of clean cloth either. It was used. The bedding set had been used, although not long enough to soften, probably only a few days. Enough time for the scent to stick to the fabric.

He set the pillow back down and went to retrieve the bag that he had left on the chair. He sat on the bed with his back to the head board and turned on his laptop. He had a short reading assignment to finish. It was due in three days, but since it shouldn’t take more than half an hour to finish, Tsukishima figured he should get it over with.

Twenty two pages later, Tsukishima saw the letters on the page blended together like milk being poured into coffee. He blinked tiredly, his eyelids felt like they were weighed with rock. He looked at the clock on his night stand. It was already eleven. He should sleep, but he hadn’t finished the chapter yet. Pushing his glasses up a bit to rub at his exhausted eyes, he blinked and tried to get it into focus. He managed to read another page before his eyes fell shut.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

Tsukishima woke in a subtle jerk when he felt the mattress next to him dipped under the weight of something. His back was to the door, so he didn’t know what or who it was that had come into his room this late at night, though he had a guess. Tsukishima glanced around quickly while keeping himself still. The digital clock on his night stand glowed dimly in the dark, informing him that it was almost two in the morning. Another glance told him that he had fallen asleep while trying to finish the readings. His laptop was on sleep mode at the foot of the bed along with his notebook.

The movement of the dips came closer. The person was approaching him. Tsukishima suddenly smelled a stronger scent of green apple. It was his stalker. He was right to guess that it was a cologne.

Although he was pretending to be asleep, his brain was reeling, taking in the situation. This was the closest he had ever been to the stalker. It was his chance to gather information. Tsukishima gathered his wit and used his other senses to feel. Judging from the dip on the mattress, the faceless stranger seemed to be a well-built person and definitely a man. That was the only information he had deducted when something was suddenly pressed on his closed eyes, over the bridge of his nose. He could feel both edges of the thing being pulled back around his head, and then there was a small movement at the back of his head.

He was being blindfolded, Tsukishima realized, seemed like his stalker had come prepared.

He could feel the stalker shift beside him, before a small and deep dip turned into a long but shallow one. The blanket moved and there were a few soft tugs. Tsukishima knew that they-he was lying down beside him, close enough for his back to touch the stranger’s body under the cover.

Something touched a strand of hair on his forehead, before moving down to his cheek and ear. The warmth from the man’s hand made Tsukishima want to shiver, but he held still and waited. It left a fleeting touch on his earlobe before pulling back. Tsukishima waited for a while, but not thing more happened.

He debated his option. He could continue pretending to be sleeping to keep track of what the stalker did, or he could just go back to sleep and whatever happened to him would have to be dealt with tomorrow. As they said, leave tomorrow’s problem to the tomorrow you.

Tsukishima could feel warmth seeped from the stalker to where he was lying. With a quality blanket wrapped over him, he wasn’t cold by any case, but the additional body heat that sooth his back was tempting. Tsukishima had always loved a sunny day more than a snowy day. He loved being warm. So he did the unimaginable.

He let out a soft groan, feeling the body beside him tense up. His stalker must be thinking that he was waking up. Tsukishima wasn’t going to tell him that he had been conscious the whole time. Instead, he rolled around toward his bedmate and let out some senseless mumbles, feigning sleep. His forehead landed on something hard and a little sharp, which should be the stalker’s shoulder.

The man went even more tense even though Tsukishima’s eyes were blindfolded. He couldn’t see who the nighttime visitor was even when he wanted to, but that didn’t matter. Tsukishima nuzzled his cheek on the soft fabric of the man’s shirt to find a comfortable position and curled up while making sure that his actions seemed like he was under the influence of sleep.

Pleased at the warmth slowly crawling into his shirt, Tsukishima felt the man beside him relaxed before going limp. A hand came up to caress his hair, before Tsukishima went back to the embrace of the dreamland.

When Tsukishima woke up, the sun was blaring in the sky. He panicked for a little while, before realizing that today was Saturday and that he didn’t have classes. Looking around, he thought about what he would do for the day when the memory of last night caught up to him. His eyes quickly darted to the space beside him, but no one was there. The blindfold was gone. He wondered if it was all his imagination, but then his eyes caught the short black strands of stray hair that blended so well with the navy blue pillow cover that he almost did noticed. They looked like the one he found on the balcony.

It wasn’t a dream, Tsukishima repeated the sentence over and over in his head. He had slept in the arm of his stalker.


	4. The Host Who Carried

After their first shared night, it was like a thick fortress between Tsukishima and his stalker had been taken down. Once or twice a week, his stalker came into the apartment at night and laid down in his bed. Sometimes he would play with Tsukishima’s blonde hair until he fell asleep, but never once had the man forgotten to tie a piece of clothes over Tsukishima’s eye.

There were a couple times when Tsukishima stayed up until the stranger’s breath evened out. He had every chance to slip his makeshift blindfold off and get a look at the man beside him, but he didn’t. Every night, Tsukishima fell asleep, lulled by the airy smell of green apple and warmth from another body and woke up to the emptiness and a warm meal in his kitchen.

When the green apple scent started to fade, Tsukishima would come back home in the afternoon to find that his bedroom was wrapped in a stronger citric scent. His bed sheet, along with the blanket and pillow covers, were replaced with new ones that were recently used by his stalker.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

Slowly letting out his breath, Tsukishima watched other players with attentive eyes as they connected the ball and sent it to the setter. He watched all players on the other side of the court closely. They were all professional players. Unlike in high school leagues where a toss was sent to either the two players in front of the net or the ace, professional players could spike from everywhere. The toss can go to anyone.

But the key was the setter, so Tsukishima didn’t let even a minute detail leave his observation. The setter’s back was to the net, his body was tilted to the left, but his right foot was pointing toward the right. He was preparing for a right. Tsukishima rushed in the predicted direction and jumped up. A hard contact hit his palm. The volleyball stopped for a heart beat at the interjection, before propelling back to the way it had come from and landing on the court with a loud bang.

There weren’t loud cheers that followed. This was a second division league. Not many people came to watch their match at the stadium, but Tsukishima could hear his brother’s voice from somewhere to his left. The referee whistled, and their match was officially over with Sendai Frog as the victor.

Tsukishima grinned at how good that one last block felt on his red palm. The spiker was so confident that he could get past the block, so he swung his arm with all his might. Unfortunately, all it did was add to the speed of Tsukishima’s blocking ball.

They lined up to pay respect to the other team at the net, before running to the side and bowing to the few audience who had come to watch the match. After showering and changing his clothes, Tsukishima walked out of the stadium with his team. They were going back to their facility to have a brief after-game meeting and analysis. He didn’t expect to see Akiteru because his brother had work right afterward. Tsukishima had told him not to come because his match was so close to Akiteru’s work shift, but his idiot brother just ignored it and showed up anyway.

As he was about to step onto the bus, a young woman ran up to him and the group, before walking straight toward him.

“Tsukishima-senshu,” she called, a bouquet of neatly arranged pink roses in her hands.

“Oh?” Koganegawa said in wonder. His teammates who were in a line to get on the bus after him sent him a smirk while other players who already got to their seat crowded the window like a bunch of teenagers.

Tsukishima’s eyebrows ticked in irritation. _Seriously, these guys…_

He turned his attention back to the woman. She looked unfamiliar. He was quite sure he had never seen her before. She wasn't in the audience either, or he would have noticed her with the bright pink stylish jacket that she was wearing.

"Tsukishima-senshu, someone ordered a bouquet for you. Congratulations on your win," she said and handed him the flowers.

Well, this was new. Tsukishima had never received a congratulations flower before.

"Thank you," he replied simply and took it into his arms. The flowers were fresh. He could feel the moisture in their petals when he ran his finger on it.

The delivery woman, or perhaps she was the florist who worked on his flowers, smiled at him one more time before turning back. She walked into the parking lot on the other side of the stadium building and out of Tsukishima’s sight.

Tsukishima sat on his seat on the bus and took a closer look at the bouquet. He could tell that it was expensive by just the design of the flower shop logo. He had always heard that fresh flowers smell nice, nothing like the dull scent from flowers in the grocery store, so he lifted the bouquet to his face and took a deep breath.

The scent was light but sweet. Tsukishima found that he liked it and took another breath. When he got enough of the pleasant scent, Tsukishima saw a small card inserted in between the flowers.

Curious, he picked it out and opened it. The message was typed and printed.

_Thank you for the breakfast the other day._

It was the stranger. There was only one person who had eaten his homemade breakfast. Now that he thought of it, there was someone who wore black face mask and black cap sitting among the small group of audience too. When Tsukishima accidentally laid an eye on him during the game, he thought the guy was weird. Who wore sunglasses indoors? But now that he read the short sentence printed onto the card, everything made sense.

The stalker came to watch his match.

Without knowing himself, he started looking out of the bus window. His eyes swiped left and right, taking in the entrance of the stadium, the small park next to it, and the parking lot, but it was empty.

Tsukishima tore his eyes from outside when the bus started to move. He searched for his beloved white headphone and connected it to his phone. A song that he had on pause resumed.

_Our hearts are overlapping_

_No need to explain, it keeps growing_

_We’re only holding each other right now_

_Whatever you do, I don’t care_

_If it’s you, it’s okay_

\- FOCUS ON ME, JUS2

When Tsukishima reached home, he pulled out his shoes and left it on the balcony to air out, before dumping his duffle bag in his bedroom. He had taken a shower at the stadium, so now he felt refreshed even after a boring meeting.

He had a plan today, and he thought that what he was trying to do would make his stalker go wild with happiness. Tsukishima took his ingredients out of the fridge and laid them on the counter. There were onions, eggs, bacon, beef, lasagna noodles, and other vegetables. He eyed them in satisfaction.

The stalker probably had food that he didn't like, and Tsukishima hoped that it wasn't lasagna. He also hoped that the man wasn't allergic to anything in there. As a second thought, he would stick a list of ingredients on the container just in case.

It took Tsukishima about an hour and a half to finish up lasagna, then he put a frying pan on the stove and prepared another dish. They were stir-fried green beans and steamed chicken breasts.

Tsukishima finished everything up when the clock on his kitchen wall striked six o'clock. He wrote all ingredients that he had used onto the post-its and stuck them onto its respective container's lid before putting them into the fridge. He also stuck another post-it onto the fridge door.

_I made some more food. It should last a couple meals. I also list the ingredients in case you have an allergy._

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

Tsukishima opened his eyes to be greeted with the darkness and cool air of his bedroom. It was October. The temperature cooled down from it's summer counterpart, but not cool enough for a night without an air conditioner. Tsukishima turned to look at the space beside him, half expecting his faceless and nameless stalker to be there, but the pillow was untouched. He frowned. What woke him up if it wasn't the man then?

But he heard a soft click from somewhere on the far side of the hallway. It sounded like his apartment door was carefully shut. Then it was quiet for a few moments. Tsukishima turned to lie on his back and closed his eyes.

There was a small metallic sound from his bedroom's door knob, before it was eased open and closed in equally quiet movement. A shuffling became clearer until it stopped on Tsukishima's side of the bed. The hands that he had become used to press a strip of fabric to his eyes, before his head was lifted from the pillow and the ends were tied behind his head.

As the visitor gently eased his head back onto the soft pillow, Tsukishima kept himself relaxed. It was becoming easier to do. However, this time, instead of feeling the man’s weight on the left side of the bed, the mattress on his side dipped. Tsukishima’s stalker sat on the edge of the bed and caressed his cheek. Tsukishima shifted into the touch and nuzzled his cheek into his palm like he always did.

There was a soft thud on the floor, before the hand pulled away. The blanket on top of him was peeled away from his body completely before the same hands fumbled with his shirt. The stalker tugged the hem of Tsukishima’s sleep t-shirt upto his chin, exposing his chest and abdomen to the chill air. Tsukishima knew he was being molested. The innocent, albeit strange, affection had turned into sexual obsession.

If there was any time to force a stop to this illegal act, it was now. Tsukishima searched into himself, deep into his conscience, deeper than simple personality and moral standpoint, but found that he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. If this molestation happened to anyone else, he would have condemned the criminal. But when the matter came to himself, he found that he wasn’t threatened. A man he didn’t know was in his apartment uninvited, late at night, touching him while he thought Tsukishima was asleep, and Tsukishima let him.

Tsukishima moved his arm that was lying on his chest onto the bundle of apple scent blanket at his side. His stalker must have thought that it was a sign of his unconscious invitation. Before Tsukishima knew it, a warm and wet tongue was on his nipple, licking and sucking like it was lollipop. A hand played with his other nipple, flicking and rubbing it between strong fingers. Tsukishima arched up to the touch and the simulations halted, thinking that he had awoken the homeowner. When Tsukishima turned his head to the other side instead of screaming and kicking wildly at not being able to see, the man resumed his skilled tongue and fingers.

After that first pause, no matter how many times Tsukishima moved or moaned as a response to the pleasure, the stalker didn’t stop. Tsukishima’s guess was that his reaction seemed unconscious enough. Now that his eyes were blindfolded, the man couldn’t see how they moved under his eyelids either.

The fingers and tongue continued to play with his sensitive nubs, while another hand went downward to tug on the waistband of his knee-length pants. It slipped off easily. Tsukishima felt a warm hand trailed down from his belly button to his crotch, before tracing a light touch along the length of his cock. Tsukishima moaned in his throat.

The touches suddenly left him, and Tsukishima almost whined. He heard a sound of zippers being pulled open. It was too loud to be pants zippers. Then he caught a sound of a bottle being popped open. The hands came back, but this time they rested on his exposed thighs before pushing them up. Cool liquid made a contact around his entrance, before something long and thin was pushed in.

It was his finger, Tsukishima realized. His stalker was going to penetrate him. He was going to lose his virginity to a criminal. The thought didn’t worry him as much as he had thought.

The fingers slipped in and out in slow thrusts, before a second finger was added. If nothing else, Tsukishima would even say that the man was excited. He could feel the erratic energy buzzing under the stalker’s skin. The visitor knew from just slipping a finger in his hole that Tsukishima was a virgin. The first cock that will be swallowed into this tight ass was his, and he drowned himself in that thought, but his stalker was being patient. He slowly stretched Tsukishima’s virgin hole, pumping his fingers in careful manners, scissoring to relax his sphincter muscles. Tsukishima let himself go lax under the hand of the man. The feeling in his ass was weird, but not unpleasant.

Then the third and fourth fingers were inserted, and Tsukishima started to feel a little lightheaded. The slickness of lube helped ease all four of his fingers in. The stalker pumped into his hole faster, before he roughly pulled the digits out and Tsukishima heard clothes ruffling. His stalker was becoming less patient. If the man was as obsessed with him as Tsukishima had suspected, his cock probably went rigid as soon as he saw Tsukishima’s naked torso. It was rather admirable for him to keep it in this long while stretching Tsukishima’s hole.

Something thin but more solid than the finger pushed in. Tsukishima was trying to think what it was when a gush of cool liquid flooded his inside, and he bit back a moan at the cool sensation that was a contrast to his burning body. It was lube. Then the thing that penetrated him was probably a syringe. Tsukishima didn’t have much time to himself when a rigid something touched his entrance, before the veined rod was slowly pushed in.

Tsukishima whined, unable to stop himself when an unfamiliar sensation of being penetrated from behind rendered his body into a shaking mess. The stalker’s cock pushed in and in and _in_ , until Tsukishima thought he could feel it in his throat. He didn’t know how long the man’s cock was. He wasn’t anywhere near experienced enough to know just from the feeling of it inside his passage, but it felt deep. And it was thick too. His rim felt like it was stretching around a water bottle. It was so much larger than the four fingers that he was prepped with that his ass burned.

Sliding in was met with some resistance from Tsukishima's inexperienced hole, but the excessive amount of lube injected into him was helpful. The man’s cock slithered in without stop, propelled forward by relentless pushes. Tsukishima trembled at the sensation of his inside being rubbed. He let out nonsense mumblings before spreading his legs a little further. The stalker’s balls were pressed to his entrance when the whole length was fully sheathed. Tsukishima was allowed a short break, before the man slid out slowly and pushed in again.

The thrust was sweet and slow. His cock rubbed deliciously on all the sweet spots inside Tsukishima, dragging his wet wall along with each thrusting. He could hear the filthy squelch that his ass made whenever the stalker’s thighs slapped his ass cheeks. Tsukishima bit back a scream of ecstasy when the cock rubbed against a spot that made his whole body shudder in pleasure. He didn’t want to alert the man of his consciousness, so he swallowed down the high pitched sound and let out a string of whimpers instead.

A hand came up to play with Tsukishima’s cock, which was already half hard from his nipples being teased and his hole being used. The stalker curled his fingers around Tsukishima’s length and pumped. Tsukishima moaned. It took every ounce of his effort to stay still and not thrust his hip back onto the cock that was impelling him. When the rigid cock pressed on that same spot again, Tsukishima had a full body orgasm that had his abdomen muscle tighten, arching upward, and his thighs spasm. He clamped down on the cock within him, and the increased tightness seemed to urge the stalker forward as he rammed into him faster and harder, chasing an orgasm of his own. There was a soft grunt, and Tsukishima felt his inside warmed up by a thick liquid that spurted into him, but the thrusts didn’t stop. It continued for a while longer, the stalker riding out his orgasm, but then the thighs that were pressed against Tsukishima’s ass convulsed, and another rope of cum was shot into him.

His stalker reached his orgasm twice within a span of minutes, Tsukishima thought with amazement, as his intense orgasm faded out and exhaustion from the activity finally caught up to him. His thighs ached and his ass hurt, but he felt surprisingly satisfied. Burying the side of his face into the soft pillow that absorbed his cheek and inhaling the scent of green apple, he fell asleep as the blanket was pulled back onto his body and securely tucked under his chin.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

When Tsukishima came to, it was morning, and birds were chirping loudly next to his window. He buried his face deeper into the pillow and pulled the blanket up until it completely hid the lower part of his face from his nose down. He managed to get a couple more minutes of sleep when the alarm rang next to his ear. Right now, he could ignore the annoying birds, he could even ignore the earthquake emergency alarm, but this, the sound that blared at him to get ready for classes, he could not. So he pushed himself up and slapped a hand onto the stop button, before his shoulder slumped back to the tiredness he felt in every muscle of his body.

It was fortunate that he didn’t have volleyball practices today, or else he would have caught his coach’s eyes with his underperformance.

Tsukishima rubbed his eyes tiredly to get rid of the drowsiness. He grabbed his eyes glasses from the nightstand and put them on. The world around him instantly came into focus. That was when he saw a familiar post-it on the nightstand.

Right. He visited last night.

Tsukishima reached for it and read the message.

_Please leave it in. Let me stay inside you for a while longer._

Tsukishima knitted his brows in confusion, before he looked down to see his still naked lower half. He felt like something was pressing at his butt, so he brought his hand down and found a solid handle of something sticking out from his ass. Sliding it out a bit, he saw that the part inside was wider than the handle. His entrance spread apart slowly to make way for something round. Tsukishima noticed that there was white, sticky substance mixed with clear, slicky, gel-like liquid, and it stuck to the surface of the metal plug.

Understanding drawn onto him that by ‘let me stay inside you,’ his stalker meant to keep his cum inside his ass.

He supposed it was creepy to wake up with someone’s cum, whom he didn’t know, in his ass and see a note to keep it inside him. But he was fully awake when the man used his body and didn’t struggle or try to stop him, so it didn’t leave him the same effect as it must have on other people.

Last night, the stalker, an unknown man, had stripped him naked and ravaged his body.

And Tsukishima had let him.

Tsukishima pushed the plug back into himself and tried sitting up on the bed. He rolled his hip a bit, trying to get a feel of what it was like to have a hard object inside him. Then he stood up and walked around the room, paying close attention to how the plug shifted when he moved differently. After a few minutes of experimenting, Tsukishima found that having the plug inside him while going to class wouldn’t hinder his movement or make him walk weirdly, so he went into the bathroom to wash himself and went to classes with it.


	5. You Are Mine

If Tsukishima had to ask himself what wearing a butt plug while going out was like, he would say that it wasn’t as much of a simulation as it was a reminder. Walking around with it in his ass didn’t make him want to writhe and squirm. It was more like a constant presence that was just _there_.

Such was the feeling he was currently getting while listening to the lecture and taking notes. The professor was in front of the class, going through her slide so fast that many students gave up trying to write down anything she said. Tsukishima was in his usual seat at the back, rolling his hip in small movements and feeling the small plug that glided against the inside of his ass. He wasn’t hard. The plug didn’t go deep enough to touch his sensitive part, but having a weight of something in him was distracting. Tsukishima wasn’t used to it.

He had spent all morning squeezing his ass on the plug and shifting his sitting position, feeling the solid surface dug into his slippery wall and the small sense of fullness that accompanied it. Somehow, he felt himself more grounded than usual.

Fifteen minutes later, the class was over and Tsukishima drove back to his apartment. He ate the crepe cake that was put in his fridge by the stalker for lunch and went to lie down on the couch. He liked reading on the couch more than on his desk. It was more comfortable, and the smaller space made him feel like the couch was his own safe haven.

He decided to go to bed early tonight because all his assignments were finished, which was a rare occasion considering that his dear professors gave out assignments like they were trying to compete with each other on who could be the best pain-in-the-ass instructor.

When he stripped his clothes off in the bathroom, he saw the base of the plug between his ass cheeks in the mirror. He had been wearing it the whole day. Did that satisfy his stalker yet? He contemplated if he should pull it out, but then he shrugged and turned the shower on.

It stayed inside him.

As Tsukishima laid in his bed, he thought about what had happened in this very room yesterday. His stalker came into his apartment everyday to clean and leave gifts, but his nightly visits were few and far in between. Usually twice a week, Tuesday and Saturday. Tsukishima thought it was a weird schedule to have. With his physique, the man was an adult for sure. And most adults go to college or work on Tuesday. How could this person come to see him even on business days?

Tsukishima suspected that he might not be a college student, simply because coming to clean his apartment everyday was just unachievable for students who had assignments, readings, studying, and paper works. So he had to be a working adult. One with an abnormal work schedule at that.

After pondering on this faceless person for a while more, he turned the light off and went to bed. He didn’t think his stalker would come today. The guy had never visited him two days in a row.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

It was why he was more than a little surprised to be woken up by a feeling of a piece of cloth on his eyes again.

Like yesterday, Tsukishima's pants were eased down and a hand fumbled around his crotch until it touched the plug's handle. The stalker's hand froze still upon contact. He pulled the plug out a little, enough for the base to be lifted away from Tsukishima's hole, before a finger slowly circled the closed rim like he was trying to commit every detail to his memory.

_He came to check if I did as he said_ , Tsukishima mused.

When his stalker was satisfied, he pushed it back to its rightful place and pulled Tsukishima's pants back up.

Soft footsteps went around the bed back to Tsukishima's side. He heard the same zippers sound similar to yesterday, and then another piece of cloth was pressed against his nose. This one was slightly damp.

Chloroform, Tsukishima's brain supplied. He immediately held his breath, but it would be strange if his chest didn't move at all, so he contracted his abdominal muscles lightly and evenly to make his chest look like it was moving, pretending to breathe in the substance.

One thing that most people don't know, though, was that people didn't just lose their consciousness after breathing it in for a few seconds like in cheap movies. Chloroform didn't work that way. Depending on the amount of drugs the cloth contained, it took at least five minutes to knock a person out. Tsukishima was hoping that the stalker didn't know this fact and retracted his hand soon.

However, a full minute passed, and the drugged piece of clothes was still held under his nose. It seemed that the stalker knew his science. Tsukishima couldn't hold his breath forever, but he wasn't going to let his stalker know that he had been awake or let himself be knocked out, so he changed his plan. Tsukishima alternated quick intakes of air and holding his breath. He was successful with the cooperation of his athlete lungs that could hold considerably more air than most people.

When the man lifted the cloth from Tsukishima's face, he was still fully awake.

Is this the time when victims of stalking are kidnapped? Tsukishima wondered.

He heard a soft clinking sound from this right, the same distance that he had heard the zippers. By now, Tsukishima knew that his stalker came with a bag of equipment.

The stalker took his arms, and a soft texture of something was wrapped around both his wrists. Tsukishima's left wrist was pulled up, and he heard a soft click, before his arm was let go. He was surprised to feel that his arm couldn't fall back onto the bed. His upper arm was laid on the mattress, but his forearm was pulled up by something toward the direction of the headboard. The same was done to his other arm.

As the stalker proceeded to bind his ankles, Tsukishima wondered if this was some kind of kinky play. But it didn’t make sense. If he planned to keep Tsukishima asleep, why would he need to restrain his limbs too? Did he want Tsukishima to wake up, sightless and motionless? What would he gain? Questions popped up into Tsukishima’s head, but none was answered.

Just like a Déjà vu of last night, his stalker sat down on the bed beside Tsukishima and tugged the hem of his shirt up. His hands caressed the pink nipples and played with the nubs, kneading and massaging. Tsukishima moaned, and this time, the man didn’t stop. The sleeping drug was in effect, so the angel shouldn’t wake up no matter what he did.

The hands left after a while. Tsukishima heard a weird sound like rubbing elastic together and then a high-pitched clank. The visitor’s hands came back to touch his nipples, but they didn’t feel the same. While Tsukishima was trying to figure out what it was that felt different, a cold ball of soft material was pressed on his left nipple and around the area. It smelled like the blue disinfecting alcohol, he realized. Then something hard was clamped onto both sides of his left nipple.

Tsukishima kept still. The action had become a second nature to him. He subtly sucked in breath when something else was pressed to the side of his standing nub, and before he knew it, all he could feel was pain. His dark vision exploded in bright red as a sharp stabbing feeling shot up his chest. The pain spread further until it was swallowing him, accompanied by a soft spasming feeling in his flesh as an undertone.

Biting his lower lip to keep the sound that threatened to escape from spilling out, Tsukishima counted his breath and tried to calm down. His awareness of the pain was so much that he missed the slight pressure that followed. He was counting, from one to twenty, and then twenty to one. Tsukishima didn’t know what his stalker could be doing to cause this much pain, but as soon as he was about to regain his composure, the same pain flared again, this time from his right nipple. His world bled red for the second time.

Pain was all he could feel. Pain was all he could hear and see. A small drop of tear fell from Tsukishima’s eyes, but it was absorbed into the fabric of the blindfold before it could trail down onto his cheek. Tsukishima was trembling slightly despite his effort to stay still.

He understood now why the man attempted to put him to sleep. Whatever his stalker had planned to do, he knew it was going to be painful. He didn't want Tsukishima to wake up during the process, either because of the pain or of his own identity. And he had put Tsukishima in restraints in the rare case that pain woke him up from drugged sleep.

The stalker must have noticed him trembling, because he put a hand on Tsukishima’s chest, at the middle point between his ribs, and spoke, “You must be cold. Hang on a bit longer. I will cover you up soon.”

It was the first time Tsukishima had heard his stalker’s voice, and it dragged him out of his pain filled mindscape like being pulled from underwater. He didn’t know what he expected the man’s voice to be like, but he didn’t think his voice would sound this young. In fact, he sounded about the same age as Tsukishima himself.

A small pack of ice was pressed to each of Tsukishima’s throbbing nipples. The pain subsided at the numbing cold, and Tsukishima relaxed his arms that he didn’t notice were pulling on the bindings.

Tsukishima didn't know how much time had passed, but as the sharp pain in his nipples swindled to dull ache, he vaguely registered the man pulling the ice packs away before tossing it in the sink in his bathroom.

The stalker zipped his bag up, and then there was a dip in the bed, in his usual spot next to Tsukishima. This time he didn't simply lie down or wait for Tsukishima to roll over to him. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Tsukishima was under a sleeping drug that he became bolder. The man pulled Tsukishima into his warm embrace and pushed Tsukishima's head into the crook of his neck. A blanket covered them soon after.

"They are rewards, you know," came the soft whisper. Tsukishima shifted closer to find a more comfortable position and settled to listen. He had a feeling that the man wasn't done talking. "You carry a part of me so well today."

_Of course I did_ , Tsukishima mentally snapped back. Pain was awaking the salty side of him.

So this was an exchange for carrying the man’s cum inside all day. Tsukishima guessed this could have been called an reward, whatever it was, if he had slept through it like his stalker had planned.

“You will keep carrying me with you. Everyday. All day. I will always be a part of you.” He pressed a light kiss on Tsukishima’s forehead. “You are mine, Tsukishima Kei.”

Well, that was creepy, and maybe borderline psychotic. Tsukishima sighed softly and curled into the warmth a little bit more. His nipples were still throbbing, but the pain was nowhere near the sharp stabbing feeling before the ice packs. He fell asleep in no time despite the pain.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

When Tsukishima woke up before his alarm clock in the morning, he was puzzled to find that the blindfold was still on. Thinking that maybe we woke up too early and the stalker hadn’t left yet, he pretended to roll a bit to the left and jabbed his arms out. Nothing. The bed was empty except for Tsukishima.

He thought that the man might have forgotten to take the blindfold off, but a mechanical hum from the kitchen told him differently. Someone was using the microwave. There was only one person who came into Tsukishima’s apartment like it was his own. A few minutes later, the microwave gave a soft beep, signaling that the heating was done.

Everything was quiet for a while, before the door to his room creaked open. His pants were pulled down again, this time they were completely tugged off his ankle. The metal butt plug that had been inside him since yesterday morning was pulled out. There was a bit of scrapping on Tsukishima’s inner wall because the lube and the cum had dried up, but it wasn’t painful.

Something thin was inserted into him. At first, Tsukishima thought that it was the man’s finger, but then something warm poured into his ass. A steady thick stream of liquid filled his inside and Tsukishima relaxed at how pleasantly lukewarm the liquid was. He let out a content sigh without knowing.

The constant stream continued for longer than Tsukishima thought, but wasn’t complaining. He buried his cheek deeper into the pillow. When his stalker was satisfied, he pulled the thin object out, before the same plug was quickly replaced.

The man’s hands groped his thighs. The familiar heat radiating from his hands made Tsukishima spread his naked thighs to let them explore around a little more. The heat travelled to the inner part of his thighs and kneaded the soft skin there. They left without doing anything more, but Tsukishima was satisfied when the blanket was brought back over his lower body.

There was a sound of careful shuffling. The stalker gathered his things before giving Tsukishima’s head one last pat. He left with a soft click of Tsukishima’s door, and the homeowner easily let sleep take him once more.


	6. Self-Introduction

Tsukishima woke up again when the alarm rang. This time he could see the surrounding blurrily. The blindfold was off. There was another note on his nightstand, not at all different from yesterday. Putting on his glasses, Tsukishima picked the small paper up and read.

_Keep more of me inside you. Until you smell like me._

_One day, we will become one._

Way to creep your sexual object out even more, Tsukishima thought with amusement. He stood up to get ready for class, before noticing that the inside of his ass felt wetter than yesterday. His stalker had poured something warm into him, and that something was his cum, heated up by the microwave. Tsukishima couldn’t help but wonder if this was purely just the man’s semen, because it felt a lot. Surely he wouldn’t make himself cum that much. The more possible option, though, was that it was his semen mixed with lube.

Well, Tsukishima could only hope that his stalker had cleaned the microwave after using it because he absolutely refused to heat up food in the place that could be dirtied with semen. 

It was strange how he was fine with all these disturbing acts, but Tsukishima simply shrugged it off. He wasn’t killed, so everything was fine.

Walking into the adjoined bathroom, Tsukishima took off his shirt and threw it into the laundry basket. His pants had magically disappeared from his bed, which really, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point. After brushing his teeth and washing his face at the sink, Tsukishima looked up into the mirror and paused. There was something on his nipples.

Looking down at his own two nubs of flesh, Tsukishima realized that they were piercings. His stalker had given Tsukishima’s nipples piercings. No wonder it had hurt so much. He carefully inspected the metal rings. It looked like good quality material, glistening under the artificial light of his bathroom. Running his fingers on the surface, he discovered that they were smooth too. The rings were small, a size of typical hoop earrings, and there was a thin silver chain that linked them together. The middle of the chain dropped in a smooth curve between his ribs.

Tsukishima tugged at the chain experimentally. It pulled onto his nipples and made him bite his own lip at the strange sensation. He then moved to knead his nubs, which was bright pink from last night’s abuse. They looked fine. No infection or anything noticeably bad.

Satisfied at the examination, Tsukishima took a shower and went to class with cum sloshing in his ass and a shirt rubbing against his freshly done piercings.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

After the modification of his nipples and the proclamation of the stalker’s ownership over Tsukishima, they had settled into their old routine. The stalker cleaned his apartment during the day, when Tsukishima was in class or went outside. He slept in Tsukishima’s bed twice a week and left in the morning before the homeowner woke up. A variety of desserts continued to appear in his fridge and gifts in his car.

They hadn’t fucked for two weeks. His stalker just came in and slept. There was no more releasing inside and plugging him up, but Tsukishima had occasionally woken up to warm hands under his shirt, playing with his piercings and sucking his nipples. The last time the man came, which was three days ago, he attached vacuum suckers to his nipples and turned it on all night. Tsukishima had found that he enjoyed the pressure and let the man play with his body while he fell back to sleep.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

The stalker came tonight. It seemed that he was in a rush because his footsteps were louder than usual. Tsukishima wondered why as he waited for the blindfold to be tied around his eyes. This time, his stalker skipped the foreplay and went straight to fucking. He propped Tsukishima up on his stomach and put a pillow under his hip for support. Lubing Tsukishima up and giving him a minimum stretch, the man slammed himself inside in one go. Tsukishima stifled a scream of pleasure as the pace started with fast and rough thrusts.

His stalker was impatient tonight. His rhythm was messy, drilling in and out with no room for breaths. His hip intended on taking and taking, possessing everything Tsukishima’s ass had to offer, chasing his orgasm with frustration. Tsukishima was grateful for the pillow under him, or else he would have a hard time staying still. Loud meaty slaps echoed around the room as the man rammed into his channel relentlessly until a hot spurt of cum shot into Tsukishima’s tight heat.

The man collapsed onto Tsukishima. His body warmth soothed Tsukishima’s sore backside that had endured the harsh treatment. Two hands came to absently play with his nipples, admiring his own handiwork on the angel. It took him a while to be satisfied, before rolling off Tsukishima and carefully arranging him into a comfortable sleep position.

Something happened to his stalker. He came to Tsukishima, frustrated and aroused. He fucked Tsukishima instead of masturbating himself to completion. Perhaps the man had formed some kind of twisted emotional tie with him.

Tsukishima wasn’t sure of what he was going to do was a good decision, but he decided to follow through with it anyway. Reaching out his hand to the estimated direction that he thought his stalker would be, his fingertips were met with something soft. It was a little wet and flexible. They were the stalker’s lips.

The man next to him froze.

“Hey there. I’m Tsukishima,” he said even though the stalker knew his name. Hell, he even pronounced his first name correctly. When the man didn’t answer, Tsukishima moved his hand up to his cheek. His touch was delicate, light as feathers, because he was blindfolded. He didn’t want to accidentally poke his nails into the man’s eyes.

When Tsukishima’s hand trailed up to his stalker’s temple, he spoke. “You...are awake?” His voice was small from shock and panic.

Tsukishima hummed, his voice calm, so unlike a person whose body was ravaged by a criminal a couple minutes ago. “Since the first time.”

“The first time...” His voice was uncertain, like he was trying to decide which night was Tsukishima’s first time being awake.

Now that Tsukishima had an opportunity to memorize the quality of his stalker’s voice, he noticed that his tone was deep. And he spoke to him without polite forms.

“Since the very beginning. When you came into my bed and slept.” Tsukishima’s own voice was surprisingly calm in this situation, sightless and vulnerable, compared to his stalker who could do anything at this very moment. His hand moved up to the soft hair, black, if the small strands of hair that he had found a couple times in the past belong to him. He trailed his hand to his stalker’s nape, trying to picture how the man looked like. He had short hair, Tsukishima noted.

Heavy silence followed. The stalker didn’t pull away from his touch, but also didn’t come closer. Tsukishima knew the question that he had, so he answered it without being asked. “I didn’t see your face.”

The stalker’s head perked up at that.

“I didn’t care to know,” Tsukishima added.

“You didn’t care to find out who broke into your house and rape you?” He asked incredulously, voice high, with a tint of suspicion and hope.

Tsukishima’s hand went on to the bang that covered the stalker’s forehead. It was straight, soft, and well-taken care of. “You didn’t rape me,” he said with finality. “You may think that I was unconscious, but I wasn’t. Everything you had done to me had my consent, even if you might not know it.”

He didn’t know why he was explaining these things to a stalker. He was a victim here, albeit a willing one.

“Everything?” The stalker repeated, still doubtful, “But the piercing...”

“I was awake when you had them done too.”

“You what?” The man almost exclaimed. “But the drug-”

“You already know that I’m an athlete. I can hold my breath quite well.”

Tsukishima was careful when he trailed his index finger along the bridge of his stalker’s nose, committing each and every bump into his memory.

“You let me...” The man’s breath was becoming unstable. He was trying to come to term with meeting someone who would comply with every demand a stalker made and not report him. “You let me bind your arms and legs. You let me pierce your nipples without anesthesia.”

“I let you into my house, fuck me, pump me full of your cum, and plug me up, yes, those too.” As Tsukishima said the sentence, he was prepared to be asked the question that he didn’t have an answer to, to be asked why he had allowed them to happen to himself.

But the question didn’t come. Instead, the stalker nuzzled his forehead into Tsukishima’s palm. “Are you going to ask for my name?”

“Would you tell me if I ask?” He asked back despite knowing the answer.

A pair of hands wrapped around Tsukishima’s wrist. Warm thumb caressed the inside of his palm. “Are you not afraid?”

Should he be afraid? Tsukishima supposed he should. That was what most people would feel if they had been in his situation. But really, though, “Should I be?”

Another question with no answer.

Tsukishima knew from their conversation that his stalker knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew that fucking people in their sleep was a rape, even though it really wasn’t, but he did it anyway and kept coming back for more. It seemed that whatever morals the man held, it wasn’t enough to prevent him from his obsession over Tsukishima. His connection with Tsukishima, even with unknown origin, was so strong that it consumed him.

Tsukishima shifted to lie on his side, facing his stalker with sightless eyes, and held the hands that were kneading his knuckles in a tight grip. “Stay,” he said, “You can leave in the morning before I wake up.”

The weight on the mattress beside him settled. Two arms pulled Tsukishima closer into his embrace and pushed his head to his chest. The stalker’s half hard cock slid into Tsukishima’s hole, warming up his inside, but this time it didn’t move. The man stayed there and rested his chin on Tsukishima’s mop of blonde hair before breathing out.

In the morning, when the person on the bed moved to get up and slid his cock out, Tsukishima felt a gentle kiss on his forehead, before the door to his apartment was clicked shut a few minutes later.

  
  



	7. Doubts

Sometimes Tsukishima had a fleeting urge to find out who the stalker was. Not to report him, but to simply satisfy his curiosity and put a face to a person. The bentos and desserts that he had received came in its original package, so all the brand bags and logos were on there. He could easily trace them back to the purchaser, but he didn’t follow through with the thought.

The last time they fucked, or more accurately the last time his stalker fucked Tsukishima, the man knew that he was conscious. He should realize that Tsukishima didn’t plan to report him.

No matter. Tsukishima could deal with his harmless curiosity. If his stalker didn’t want his identity to be known, then Tsukishima didn’t want to know.

Tsukishima looked at the metal butt plug that sat innocently in his bathroom cabinet. His stalker didn’t take it back after their last use a month ago, so Tsukishima thought of it as his property now.

Earlier today, he had made a trip to a convenient store and bought himself a bottle of silicone lube and water-based lube each. After much consultation with the internet, he had deemed to use the silicone lube with his metal plug since it seemed to last longer and more appropriate for prolong toy insertion. He bought the water-based lube just because it was on a promotion.

He poured the silicone lube onto his hand and inserted two fingers into himself. Imitating what his stalker had done, Tsukishima made a scissoring motion until he felt himself relaxed enough. He rubbed lube over the entire curved surface of the plug and inserted them. It was relatively small, the size of an egg, so the process went without much difficulty.

Standing up, Tsukishima wiped off the excessive lube on his ass cheeks and pulled his pants up. He went to bed and slept the whole night without waking up.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

From that day onward, he went about his days and nights with the continuous presence of the plug inside him. He heavily lubed his hole up in the morning and wore a long cardigan when he went outside, so people wouldn’t notice if the lube leaked out and stained the backside of his pants. He lubed himself again before bed. The plug stayed inside him at all time, minus when he emptied his bowel, and it slowly became a part of him, like his own organ.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

It was early morning. Tsukishima had finished his cup of morning coffee, but decided that he needed more sugar in his bloodstream today. He stared at three tea bottles of different flavors undecidedly, before closing his eyes and picking whatever flavor his hand managed to grab. When he opened his eyes, the drink in his hand was honey lemon tea.

He twisted the cap, but it didn’t move. Again, more intently, he tightened his fingers on the cap and twisted, but it still refused to turn. Tsukishima looked at the drink like it insulted him and returned it into the fridge. He picked the cranberry rose flavor and this time opened it with ease.

Satisfied, he grinned and chucked the sweetened liquid down. Glancing at the clock to see that it was the time when he should be leaving, Tsukishima closed the bottle to take it with him and left.

After volleyball practices, he came home to find the honey lemon tea on the table. A post-it note that was stuck onto the bottle wrote:

_Here. I opened it for you._

Tsukishima stopped being surprised at having someone in his house and touching his things long ago. But what caught his attention wasn’t the presence of the bottle or the note, but the message.

He opened it. It wasn’t weird for his stalker to know that he had a love-hate relationship with any kind of drinking bottle. He was rarely able to open the cap by himself. But what had him thinking was how his stalker knew which bottle was the one he had a problem with. There were two bottles of tea and three bottles of milk in the fridge. The man wasn’t a magician, so he surely couldn’t just close his eyes and guess.

There was an assignment due tomorrow night, so Tsukishima dismissed the question and went to sit down on the couch. He rested the laptop on his legs and emerged himself in characters and numbers until the sun started to set. When Tsukishima glanced up again, the room was dark, with the sole light coming from the sun which was half hidden by the horizon.

Getting up to turn on the light in the apartment, Tsukishima’s eyes caught on a glint of something. It came from the side of his television screen. Approaching it slowly, Tsukishima tilted his head and found a black rectangular box attached to the television frame. He moved his head to look at the other side and found a circular-shaped lens. Understanding drew upon him as he realized what the box was.

Tsukishima turned the light on and walked around a bit more. His eyes became more attentive when he knew what he was looking for. He found the same small boxed on his book shelf, under the built-in cabinet that was lower than his field of vision, on the frame of the black sliding door that led to the balcony, in his lamp on the nightstand, and many other places. Looking around in his bathroom gave him another one that was taped to the ceiling in one corner. It was high enough to look over his translucent shower stall.

His apartment was littered with hidden cameras installed by his stalker. Tsukishima hoped it wasn’t being broadcasted on the dark web or something.

_You are mine_ , Tsukishima thought back to the man’s words on the day that he had pierced his nipples. His stalker was possessive. He wouldn’t willingly share a piece of Tsukishima with anyone. The hidden cameras were there solely of his own eyes.

Going back to his bag, he poured everything out and looked at his notebooks and folders closely. He found a voice recorder in the front pocket that he rarely used.

So his stalker knew what Tsukishima was doing because he was watching and listening. How unfair.

Leaving everything he had discovered in its own place, Tsukishima took a shower (not without glaring at the hidden camera) and turned off the light to go to bed. He noticed a soft green light that came from inside his digital alarm. It blended in so well with the glowing number that he almost had missed it. It was a night vision camera.

Pulling the blanket over himself, Tsukishima slept with the feeling of being watched by numerous eyes.

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

A leisure Sunday when he didn’t need to do anything was Tsukishima’s favorite day of the week. He was lying on his couch, his feet propped up on the arm because of how long he was, while listening to the morning news with disinterest. His eyes were casted down at his phone while he scrolled through the social media that he rarely used.

He went over Kuroo’s ramblings and Yamaguchi’s insecurity about confessing to his crush. ฺBokuto was ranting about how good Akaashi was at cooking and wailing his gratitude to his younger boyfriend for having the honor of dating him.

[On to the next news. Yesterday, at four in the afternoon, a college girl was founded dead in her shared apartment. The report was made by her roommate who came back after visiting her family in another prefecture for two weeks. There was a report of stalking and threats made by the victim...]

Tsukishima’s ears picked up the words that made him look up from replying to Yamaguchi’s flustered breakdown. He turned the volume up and set the remote control on the couch while the television showed a censored picture of something he presumed was a corpse.

[Two months ago, Hasegawa Inori-san filed a stalking case to the police, stating that she had constantly been followed by an unknown man. However, for the two months that she was under police surveillance, no suspicious man was found, so the police called off the protection and deemed her situation safe. That was a week before her body was found.]

The picture was replaced with a cartoonized version of the analysis of what had happened before her death.

[According to the forensic police, Hasegawa Inori-san was stabbed in the chest three times with a kitchen knife. Three of her ribs were crushed and her wrists had a burned mark resembling rope. Doctors found semen inside her torn vagina. The police assumes that this is a case of stalking and rape...]

The news sounded oddly familiar, like his own situation minus the murdering part. Tsukishima watched silently until the news went on to something more pleasant. Even then, he was still stuck in his own head.

That girl’s situation was so much like his. It easily could have been him. Hell, his stalker might even be the same guy as the one whom the police were chasing after. The guy might have killed her after finding him as a new attraction. Now, there were several questions that Tsukishima should ask himself.

Should he care? Yes.

Did he care? Maybe.

Did he want it to stop? Not sure.

Why not sure? ...Not sure.

His stalker felt bad about raping him (again, not rape, Tsukishima rolled his eyes, recalling his stalker’s guilt-ridden voice). And although his conscience didn’t deter him from doing it, at least he knew that it was wrong. Could a man like that kill someone? Well, stalkers were mentally unstable to begin with, so yes, there was a possibility. A big, huge one at that if he took his stalker’s possessiveness into account.

Was Tsukishima scared? No. He had never felt scared. Not when his stalker had blindfolded him. Not when his stalker had come to him, frustrated and aroused. Not even when the pain from the piercings had shot up his spine.

And he wasn’t dead yet, so that was something, considering that he was offering himself to a possibly crazed person. Tsukishima knew he was playing with fire, but the fire didn’t char him. He was engulfed in flame, willingly walking into the middle of the bonfire, and he didn’t regret it.


	8. Burning Rage

The next day, when Tsukishima was waiting for his Japanese Literature class to start, he got a text message from an unknown number. He blinked, wondering who this person might be, and tapped to open the message.

**Unknown:** You watched the news.

Of course it was his stalker. Who else would contact him. Tsukishima wasn’t even going to think about how the man got his phone numbers.

**Tsukishima:** Yes.

The reply came instantly.

**Unknown:** Are you afraid?

**Tsukishima:** I have no reason to be.

**Unknown:** Someone died.

He repeated it like Tsukishima didn’t know that.

**Tsukishima:** It wasn’t you.

**Tsukishima:** Even if it’s you, I don’t care.

He truly didn’t care, which made him questioned if there was anything he cared about at all. And well, he cared about mom, Akiteru, Yamaguchi, some of his less annoying friends and senpais, college (apparently), and strawberry shortcake. As Tsukishima thought about them, it was the first time he realized that he actually had a lot of things he cared about.

It took a few seconds longer for the reply to come.

**Unknown:** It wasn’t me.

**Tsukishima:** I know.

Tsukishima’s thumb hovered over the add contact button. He wanted to add his stalker’s number to his phone, so he would reply immediately when there was a message, but he didn’t know what to type into the name box. He couldn’t just save his name as ‘Stalker-san’ because someone could accidentally see it. He could just invent a name for the man, but he felt like doing that would be insulting.

**Tsukishima:** You probably don’t want to tell me your name, so can I at least have a made-up name?

**Tsukishima:** I’m tired of calling you my stalker.

Looking up to see that the professor was already in front of the class, talking to some students who needed assistance with their assignments, Tsukishima deemed he had a few more minutes.

**Unknown:** You call me _your_ stalker.

It wasn’t a question. And even if it was, Tsukishima wouldn’t reply to that.

**Unknown:** Call me Kato.

Kato. Tsukishima mouthed the syllables silently, feeling how they fitted on his tongue.

It was a fake name, but Tsukishima was satisfied. He saved the phone number and typed in the name.

‘Kato’

**Tsukishima:** Nice to finally have a name, Kato.

“Ano, Tsukishima-san,” a girl’s voice called him, and Tsukishima took his attention off his phone.

“Yes?”

The girl looked at him with curious eyes that reminded him of young children. “I went to cheer on my uncle at his volleyball match yesterday. I didn’t know you are on the same team as him.”

Uncle? Tsukishima gave her his polite smile and asked, “I’m sorry. Your uncle is...”

She jumped at the opportunity and said with an excited voice, “Sakurada Hino. He plays wing spiker!” It seemed like she was a fan of her uncle.

“Ah, Sakurada-san.” He was the oldest player on Sendai Frog, full of experience and leadership. Sometimes he could be a worried old man, trying to take care of the team like they weren’t full-fledged adults, but Tsukishima found that he quite liked the man despite his fawning.

The silence that followed was awkward. Tsukishima wasn’t one for a casual talk himself, and the girl seemed like a shy person who was trying to put on a brave front to talk to people. Luckily, the professor cleared her throat as a signal that the class was about to begin. He was saved from continuing the conversation when she unceremoniously resumed the PowerPoint that she had paused at yesterday.

The girl looked at him and blurted out, “You’re an awesome player, Tsukishima-san. I will root for you,” before blushing. She ran back to her seat at the front of the class, leaving Tsukishima to wonder what that outburst was. 

|---------- ☾♛☾ ----------|

It was Sunday afternoon when Tsukishima took a nap after reviewing a reading assignment for tomorrow. He woke up after a few hours, feeling a little more refreshed. Glancing at his alarm that hid a night view camera in it, he saw that it was already seven.

There was a sound of bare feet patting on the floor coming from the bathroom. Then came soft scrubbing sound and water running from the faucet in the shower. Kato was cleaning. And he didn’t blindfold Tsukishima this time. However, looking at the black fabric sitting next to the alarm, he knew his stalker intended to use it. So Tsukishima closed his eyes and said into the emptiness of his bedroom.

“Kato?”

The scrubbing stopped. There was a sound of water splashing and the sink being used, followed by a squeak when the man in the bathroom peeled his cleaning gloves off. Tsukishima thought Kato was finished with his chore.

“I want to get up. Can you come blindfold me?”

Tsukishima kept his eyes close as footsteps came near him. His head was lifted from the pillow before the blindfold was tied in place. The hands were rougher in its treatment. His head was lifted too fast and the knot was extremely tight.

“Thank you,” Tsukishima said, before realizing how absurd this situation was. He had just thanked a stalker for getting rid of his sight.

There was something strange about Kato today. He’s radiating more energy, more emotion than usual. Feeling the relentlessness in the air, Tsukishima sat up and turned his face to the general direction of where he thought Kato would be. “Are you okay? I can feel you are upset.”

He reached out a hand, but it was harshly grabbed in a deadly grip. The force was enough to make his wrist bruise, but Tsukishima hid a wince and spoke with the same calmness. “Kato?” He tilted his head up slightly.

The hand on his wrist tightened even more, before it pulled away, and he was suddenly manhandled to flip onto his stomach. Tsukishima was thinking about how well-trained Kato’s body might be, to lift a man as tall as him like he weighed nothing more than a feather, when his pants were yanked down.

“Kato?” He called one more time, wanting to know what was wrong and why was the man upset, but he got no answer.

The metal butt plug that had found a permanent home within Tsukishima was ripped out, and this time he winced a bit. It was almost time for him to shower and reapply lube, so at this time of the day, his hole was quite dry. The lube inside had dried up during the day.

Suddenly, something big was shoved inside him, forcing his hole open at the intrusion, and Tsukishima screamed in pain as Kato’s dry cock rammed into him to the hilt without preparation or lubricant. The thrusts were difficult, with no slippery liquid that ease Kato’s big cock in it’s quest, but the tightness and the friction didn’t bother the stalker in the slightest when he put even more force into his hip to punch his way through Tsukishima’s gut.

Tsukishima could feel something inside him ripped and tore at the pull on his wall. He screamed again as pain engulfed his lower half in heated agony, but it didn’t stop or even slow Kato down. His abused hole squeezed down tighter than ever as every muscle inside him responded to the searing torment, but all it did was make the pain worse as Kato relentlessly pounded his length into Tsukishima.

It hurt.

It _hurt_.

Kato roared, a guttural sound that came from deep within his lungs, and it came out with such power and animalistic pleasure. Pleasure, Tsukishima realized, the man was taking pleasure from this. From him.

Tsukishima knew that his ass was a mess of flesh now. His inside was torn up by rough treatments and his sensitive muscles bled. It would become an even more disgusting mess if Kato continued. Every thrust from Kato made his inside burn and throb. Every inch of his wall blazed up like a burning metal was rubbing against it. His body jerked forward with the sheer power packed in each punch. Tsukishima collapsed forward, his arms unable to support himself, but his thighs remained strong to keep himself up. Still, he could feel nothing else but pain.

But Kato was taking pleasure from this.

Tsukishima was in immense pain, yes, but he didn’t mind. Maybe he was a masochist, Tsukishima thought through the fog of hurt as he laid there on the soft bed, muscles relaxed as much as he could, and let Kato take. Letting his stalker seek pleasure from his throbbing body, Tsukishima breathed in the green apple scent from the pillow underneath his nose and tried to stay calm.

A pair of hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed, blocking his air passage, and Tsukishima allowed that too. His hands weren’t bound. He could resist, could fight to get the grip away from his throat so he could breath, but Tsukishima kept them firmly fisted into his pillow, beside his head.

His world bled red as Kato continued to fuck him. His lungs squeezed in on themselves from the lack of air. Black dots lined his vision as consciousness started to escape him. But then the thrusts abruptly stopped and hot semen shot into his ruined hole. The hands on his throat got crushingly tighter, before it let go and Tsukishima could breathe again.

It was over. Tsukishima slumped down and panted heavily, heaving air into his lungs, his vision blurry from pain. He heard heavy breaths from behind and felt a shaking hand suddenly rest itself on his shoulder. Fear and panic radiated off of Kato in waves.

“Kei?” A soft whisper called his name, full of uncertainty, like a beast who just regained the control of its body after running rampage, and Tsukishima hummed back in an exhausted voice, hoarse from screaming.

“Hm?” He sounded calm. He felt calm, even after having his ass brutally torn. Tsukishima guessed this was the closest act to rape that Kato had ever done to him. He was in so much pain. He was torn apart. He was brutalized. But he didn’t fight back, didn’t try to stop Kato or slow him down. Tsukishima had consented.

“Kei.” Kato's voice trembled as he pulled his softening cock out a little easier than when it was pushed in. Blood had served as an acceptable lubricant. He sat down on the bed, pulling Tsukishima’s whole body into his lap with trembling hands. The same hands that had squeezed air out of Tsukishima’s throat touched the finger marks around his neck so gently that they almost felt like different hands. He suddenly seemed like a different person. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-”

“Kato?” He interrupted. He couldn’t see his stalker’s face, but he could guess that if Kato’s expression was reflective of his hands and voice, he was probably weeping tears and eyes shifting back and forth, not knowing what to do or say.

“Yes?”

Tsukishima’s right hand touched Kato’s shirt, before going up and up until he found his cheek. He rested his hand there. “What happened?”

“I-” The stalker sobbed. His emotional stress at hurting his angel was so overwhelming that his body didn't know how else to express it. Kato held Tsukishima’s hand to his own cheek so hesitantly like he didn’t understand how Tsukishima was willing to touch him after what he had done. He broke down and cried into Tsukishima’s hand. His words came out rushed and sloppy, like a flood of water being released from a dam. “I didn’t mean to, Kei, b-but I was... That girl talked to you. She-she said she would cheer for you and then blush! You are mine, but she was going to take you from me. I was so angry, and I saw red, so I- Please Kei! You belong to me! I’m sorry. I didn’t want-I-”

“Hey,” Tsukishima interrupted before Kato could rumble on and on. He had listened enough, and he knew what was going on now.

It was almost a given that stalkers were extremely possessive and territorial. They were also emotionally unstable. Even tiny little things could tip them off and push them into murderous rage. Kato had thought the girl liked him. He had thought she was going to ‘steal’ him away, so he reacted badly. But now the blinding anger died down, only regret was left in the wake of the aftermath. “Kato, it’s okay. I wasn’t angry.”

He felt the face in his palm shook. “Of course you are angry. How can you not? I hurt you. I’m so sorry, Kei.”

“Kato, look at me,” Tsukishima demanded, but his hand remained soothing. He repeated the same words a little softer when the man sobbed. “Look at me.”

He felt the face in his hand move. He wasn’t sure if Kato was moving to look at him, but he was going to trust that he did.

“Do I look upset to you?” Tsukishima asked, and he knew he didn’t. Kato couldn’t see his eyes, but he could see that Tsukishima’s brows and lips were relaxed. To Kato’s eyes, Tsukishima looked exactly like when he curled up in his embrace and buried his forehead in his chest, sleeping peacefully in comfortable warmth.

“No.” Kato answered carefully.

“I’m not angry, Kato,” Tsukishima explained slowly like he was talking to a child, “You hurt me, but I don’t mind.” His fingers brushed away drops of tears that clung to Kato’s cheek. “You can hurt me again, and I still won’t be angry at you.”

Silence hung over them as Tsukishima let Kato absorb his words. It was his true feeling. Tsukishima knew he was the hurt one. He shouldn’t be comforting the person who had hurt him, but he truly didn’t mind the pain. And Kato was drowning in misplaced guilt.

“Okay.” Kato’s voice was soft, but it sounded like the same Kato who sneaked into his bed and said the words of possession. The same old Kato was back. So Tsukishima smiled softly at him and said, “Now you will have to help me clean the thing down there. I don’t think I can stand.”

Kato complied without protest.

They settled into bed after a long slower that consisted of Kato apologizing to him every minute when he saw the extent of damage he had done to Tsukishima’s ass. If the sting and burn within him was anything to go by, Tsukishima knew without needing his sight how much of a horrifying piece of meat his ass had become. As Tsukishima laid in his bed, snuggling close to Kato who held him tight, the pain in his lower part hadn’t subsided, but at least he felt clean.


	9. The Rising of a Strange Relationship

When Tsukishima woke up, Kato was still in his bed, lazily sucking on his nipples. His ass felt even worse than yesterday, if that was possible.

“Kato?”

“Hn,” he replied without releasing his nipples from his mouth. Hot breath feathered over Tsukishima’s chest, making him shuddered.

“Do you know the password to my phone?”

There was hesitant silence, before Kato replied. “Yes.”

Tsukishima wasn’t bothered by the fact that Kato had access to his everything anymore. “Could you send an email to my professors? Tell them I’m sick and won’t be going to class today.”

That wasn’t a lie. He really did feel sick. In his ass, that was.

There was a rustling when Kato reached for Tsukishima’s phone “Nakamoto and Satou, right?”

He even memorized the class schedule, Tsukishima mused and hummed his confirmation.

A few minutes later, Kato said that the emails were sent and went back to taste Tsukishima’s nubs while Tsukishima himself drifted off to sleep.

Tsukishima woke up again when his alarm rang. He rolled over to his side of the bed and slammed his hand down on the stop button, before rolling back to Kato’s side.

“You don’t have to go?” He mumbled when his head landed on Kato’s firm chest.

“I have a day off today,” he answered and didn’t make any effort to move.

“I’m hungry.” It was odd because Tsukishima didn’t usually have breakfast. Kato probably thought so as well because he hummed out something that sounded like a question.

They snuggled in comfortable silence, before Kato said, voice small and mumbled, “I can’t cook.”

The sincerity in his statement made Tsukishima let out a small laugh because a stalker shouldn’t sound this innocent. “I know.” That was one of the very first traits he knew about Kato. “And I can’t cook while being blindfolded, so we can order a delivery instead.”

That seemed to make Kato a little more excited. “I want Korean food. I’ll pay,” he quickly said.

Tsukishima shrugged. “Sure.”

While Kato made a phone call, Tsukishima got out of bed and blindly found his way to the closet. He traced a hand on the neatly arranged piles of clothes and picked out a soft t-shirt and something that felt like his knee-length shorts. Walking slowly with one hand in front of him and a ‘straight ahead’ from Kato, Tsukishima got into the bathroom and stripped down. He knew that there was a camera, but he didn’t care. Kato had already seen everything that was there to see of him anyway.

Tsukishima untied the blindfold and put it on the sink counter. He didn’t want it to be soaked under the shower, just in case that kato didn’t bring another one. The light was blinding to his eyes that had seen nothing but darkness the whole night. Tsukishima narrowed his eyes to limit the light getting into his iris and quickly took a shower. He dressed himself before dutifully putting the blindfold back on, struggling a bit to tie it behind his head. After testing to make sure that the piece of cloth was wrapped tight enough, Tsukishima walked back into the bedroom.

“The food will be here in a couple minutes,” Kato said while coming up to him, his voice sounding closer. He took Tsukishima’s hand and led him into the living room, before having him sit down and going into the kitchen. Tsukishima heard the coffee machine working and relaxed into the couch.

“If you want to take a shower, you can wear my clothes,” he said into the air.

Kato came back with a warm smell of coffee. “I’m going to take you up on that,” he said while gently guiding one of Tsukishima’s hands to the cup handle and another one to the saucer under it. Tsukishima heard him shuffling away before the living room turned into silence.

He carefully blew on his coffee, mindful of how searing hot it could be when freshly brewed. Water was running in the bathroom, an unstable sound of numerous water drops hitting the tile floor. Listening to the calming water sound, Tsukishima slowly sipped the now lukewarm drink and found that it was made exactly how he liked it.

Their food came a few minutes after Kato came out of the shower, so as the only one who could see, Kato went to get the door while Tsukishima lounged on the couch, feeling like a privileged for once.

There were sounds of several plastic bags and containers being moved, followed by Tsukishima cabinets being opened and closed and plates being set on the table. “I order mild beef tofu soup for you and bibimbap for me,” Kato explained when he saw Tsukishima tilting his head back curiously in the direction of the kitchen. “There are side dishes too. You don’t eat Koreans too often, do you?”

Shaking his head, Tsukishima replied, “No.” Kato probably already knew this anyway.

While waiting for the meal to be laid out, Tsukishima thought about how much Kato knew him and much he knew Kato. He was positive Kato knew him on the same level as his best friend Yamaguchi or a little less, which was already impressive for someone who just found Tsukishima not long ago. As for Kato, Tsukishima knew something about him, but not as much as the man knew him. Tsukishima’s knowledge of Kato came from sightless observation and reading between the lines because, unlike himself, Kato wasn’t such a visible person. He came and went when he liked, and also didn’t not allowed himself to be intensely studied by Tsukishima.

Their breakfasts were eaten in silence, alternating with small talks. Tsukishima liked his tofu soup. He normally didn’t do well with spice and chili, but Kato ordered his dish mild, so he ate it without problem. The side dishes were amazing, which made Tsukishima wonder why he didn’t order Korean food much before.

After breakfast, they settled onto the couch together. There wasn’t much for Tsukishima to do with his eyes blindfolded, so he simply leaned onto Kato’s shoulders and played with the man’s fingers.

Kato’s fingers were well-maintained, Tsukishima noted as he ran the tip of his index finger over Kato’s nails. His fingernails were trimmed and manicured, not a single nail was longer than the tip of his fingers. Tsukishima wondered if his job was something that required his hands to be neat and tidy, like a hand model, a musician, or an artist. Speaking of which, Kato did his piercings too, so he could also be a tattoo artist.

“You have nice hands,” he commented while nudging his thumb on the junction between Kato’s thumb and index finger. He heard the man beside him hummed in response.

Tsukishima was used to not being able to see clearly, but not not being able to see _at all_. When he didn’t wear glasses, he could see the blurry outline of people and his surroundings, but with a blindfold, all he could see was darkness. It had taken a lot of activities out of the question. He couldn’t read, work on assignments, play on his phone, or even look outside the balcony. He could turn on the television and listen to a show, but it would be no fun with just voices and no pictures, so he continued to distract himself with his stalker’s hand.

They stayed in the same position for a while. By the occasional tapping sound of Kato’s trimmed nail on the screen, he was scrolling on his phone while letting Tsukishima play with his other hand. And Tsukishima, sightless as he was, thought about nothing and everything. He realized how much vision had distracted him from thinking about things that seemed mundane, like his existence and his everyday life. It was when his sight was taken away, fast-paced people in motion and attention-seeking color gone with it, that Tsukishima stopped and pondered.

It had been Tsukishima who asked first, when he was getting comfortable enough to melt onto Kato and his senses started to drift off due to sleep. He had blamed the welcoming silence and the warmth from Kato’s body for this.

“Why do you clean my house, buy me things, and follow me around?”

His stalker, his very own stalker, stiffened beside him. Tsukishima felt the weight of Kato’s eyes on him and realized that he had said his mental monologue out loud. Oh well, it was out, and Tsukishima would just have to say the rest because the big question that had brought this sub-question around was eating at him.

But asking a stalker why he did those disturbing things that were the very definition of his title was a difficult question, so he added, “What do you want from me? Do you just want to fuck me?”

Kato was quiet. Tsukishima waited for a while before he decided that the man wasn’t going to answer, when a deep voice suddenly said, “No. It’s not just that.”

Tsukishima rubbed his thumb on Kato’s smooth fingernails. He waited for the elaboration that he knew was going to follow.

Kato shifted, leaning closer into Tsukishima.

“I just...The moment I saw you, everything clicks. It’s like we are meant to be.” Kato’s voice was soft when he tried to put what he had felt into words. His body weight that was leaning on Tsukishima’s shoulder increased a bit as he slumped down. “When I saw you for the first time, I felt-no, I knew you were made for me. Everything about you, blonde hair, fair skin, tall physique, athlete career, even your love for sweetness and salty remarks...They all screamed _mine_ when I looked at you.”

The possessive words and illogical answers were what Tsukishima had fully expected, so he wasn't at all surprised. He knew stalkers rarely had a moral reason to be trailing someone. It was usually baseless impulses, excessive obsessions, and unhealthy decision making. Medical people called people like Kato delusional, to believe that their current interest would always respond them back in kind, but it didn’t concern Tsukishima. It wasn’t Kato’s motive and behavior that he cared. It was something else.

“Have you ever felt that way towards others?”

Kato hesitated, Tsukishima knew because his fingers jerked a little, but he encouraged his stalker on with a little massage on the back of his hand. Tsukishima needed to know. “I...have tried the same thing with someone before. I helped him, cleaned for him, looked out for him, but he didn’t accept me. He changed his locks all the time, didn’t want me to get in. He dumped the meals I bought and screamed for help every time I tried to mark him.”

He spoke with a voice so small that Tsukishima imagined his car ears drooping like a sad kitten. The comparison was too cute considering that Kato was a criminal with mental issues, but Tsukishima couldn’t help himself. He supposed most people would have reacted like the guy Kato was talking about. Tsukishima was just a strange one.

Kato continued his story. “But even then, my attraction to him was never as strong as to you. I approached him because my friend said he seemed interested in me...So no, there’s no one else. I have never felt like this with anyone until you. Even after meeting you, no one makes me feel the same as you do. You also appreciate me.”

His stalker’s moved his strong fingers to hold Tsukishima’s hand in his. “You didn’t report me, you ate the food I gave you, you weren’t scared when I visited, you wanted to be mine, because you agree to bear my mark.”

Oh, that was all Tsukishima had hoped to hear. He didn’t care if Kato turned out to be murderous. He didn’t care if Kato wanted to mark him with knives and pain and blood.

“Kato,” Tsukishima flipped his hand, palm down, to weave his fingers with Kato’s. “Do you want to date me?”

His stalker’s fingers suddenly squeezed onto his hand, forceful enough for Tsukishima to feel his bone give a protest, but he simply looked into the direction where he thought Kato’s eyes were. Kato was just surprised at the unexpected question that seemed to come out of nowhere.

With the level of obsession he had with everything Tsukishima’s, he wouldn’t let the opportunity go, but he had something else that he wasn’t ready to reveal yet. Tsukishima knew what they were.

“You don’t have to show me your face or give me your real name. You don’t have to change anything. Come and go as you want like you usually do. Everything we have been doing will stay the same, unless you want them to change,” Tsukishima explained. He was satisfied with the things between them. If he had to wear a blindfold and got a little rough handling when he wanted to spend time with Kato or when Kato was upset, then so be it. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Kato’s hands were ripped out of his grasp, then his arms wrapped around Tsukishima’s waist. His hair tickled Tsukishima’s cheek when he rested his forehead on the crook of Tsukishima’s neck. “Yes, Kei, let’s date.”

It was a simple statement, no more than four words, but Kato’s voice was the happiest Tsukishima had ever heard. He could feel Kato’s smile on his skin, sheer joy that danced in the stalker’s every being.

Four months after their first post-it note, Tsukishima dated his stalker.


	10. Bonus

_My angel's list:_

_\- Love strawberry shortcake and any strawberry dessert. He has a sweet tooth too. How cute!_

_\- Kei orders Mocha when he has paperwork to do and orders strawberry yogurt smoothie when he is being creative (Observe more closely.)_

_\- He skips his meals A LOT. That's not healthy._

_\- He's a great volleyball player. His blocks are beautiful. (Wanna play with him some day)_

_\- I'm his first time!_

_\- He thinks it wasn't rape, so it mustn't be! I'm glad._

_\- His nipples are so soft and pretty._

_\- Kei has a problem with bottle lids. I don't understand why..._

_\- I hurt Kei, but he wasn't angry. I don't like hurting Kei, but it felt good. He was so tight, tighter then his first time. But it hurt him... He said I can hurt him again. He won't be mad._

_\- Can't eat spicy food_

_\- Kei eats stir-fried potato more than any other side dishes, so he must like it_

_About Kato (started 2020/07/14):_

_\- Nipple Fetish (I'm_ sure _of it)_

_\- Kato can't cook_

_\- Bad at Japanese (Should lend him my Japanese textbooks) He uses basic vocabs and doesn't use polite form_

_\- Age (from voice and physical strength): Early 20. Black hair._

_\- Anger issues_

_\- Childish in a unexpected way_

_\- Possessive (but what do I expect)_

_\- Emotional swing (He was angry one minute, sad the next, and then happy, all in ten minutes...)_

_\- Kato loves Korean food. I should learn to make those._

_\- He had nice hands. his hands are softer and more well-cared than mine._

_\- Unknown job: Musician, Artist, Tattoo Artist, Hand Model, a job that uses hands a lot_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the last chapter, and Kageyama's name wasn't revealed even once... I'm just...ah, a sequel?

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to follow me or just peek at my account on Twitter @BlaBlaBla__Me  
> You can talk to me/ask me questions/request TsukiKage prompts anonymously here: [Drop Me a Message](https://curiouscat.qa/CrimsonRose_Monika)  
> Also Tumblr [Crimson Rosé](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/crimsonrose-monika) I'm a Tumblr beginner, so bear with me :)
> 
> Lastly, if you are **18 or over** , we have a [TsukiKage Thirst Discord Server](https://disboard.org/server/754566589491183677), so come join us!


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